


Twenty-First Century Hero

by Mickleditch



Category: Whose Line Is It Anyway? RPF
Genre: Angst, It's Just Sex For Someone But Not For Someone Else, Language, M/M, One-Sided Relationship, RPS - Freeform, old fic reposted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-22 00:20:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11368677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mickleditch/pseuds/Mickleditch
Summary: Happy endings don't exist anymore.





	Twenty-First Century Hero

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't know them, and I'm quite sure this never happened.

Jeff likes to be fucked lying on his back, his ankles locked loosely at the base of Greg's spine; not that that was the way it had happened in the bathroom off Jeff's room in the MGM Grand Hotel, with the taste of margaritas in his mouth and the cloying smell of the joint that Greg had stepped outside for a surreptitious drag on after the show still lingering in the air around them. 

They had rocked together slowly that first time, almost dreamily, Jeff's hands gripping the counter and Greg's his hips, and in the glow of the fluorescent strip light above the mirror, the reflected Greg and Jeff watching them through half-closed eyes had looked as if they were still on stage, playing a game; a pair of personas to be discarded when Drew called it, when they turned away and hit the real world again. _What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas_ , and Jeff wonders now if maybe it should have stayed, but if he could have broken it off easily in their early days, while it was fun and they were fun, the opportunity passed some evening or another; he let it get away from him, like the missed response in a skit, the forgotten punchline to a bad joke.

He isn't sure exactly when it was that it stopped being fun, but he thinks it might have been when he started doing something stupid like falling in love with Greg, and when he was alone with Brad in the green room one day and Brad came out and said it to his face because they're friends, _he's never going to leave her._ Working with Greg is fun after wanting to do it for so long; after Greg being a bigger idol to him than Groucho Marx is to Greg, for fuck's sake, and hanging out with Greg is fun, and watching the lift of Greg's eyebrows as that clever, sarcastic mouth slides down over his erection is fun, but falling in love with Greg isn't fun at all, and it's the fun he finds difficult to really recall, and impossible to retrieve these days, now that he knows, for certain, that Greg has never had any intention of falling back.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Greg says, even as he presses against Jeff, presses him against the wall of the apartment and shares with him a long, tongue-deep kiss, and Jeff's hips roll and nudge his, seeking wonderful friction, _shit, yes_ , through the cotton of Greg's slacks, through his own achingly tight denim. "Do you have," he says, " _any_ idea at all just how fucking gorgeous you are?" and Jeff thinks how Greg's compliments, like his wit, are double-edged, have a self-mocking quality to them, as if they come gift-wrapped with unspoken references to his own perceived inadequacies. It bothers him that it seems like Greg doesn't actually like himself very much at times, so he pulls back, out of the hand fisted in his shirt between them, out of the kiss, and wraps his arms around Greg's neck instead, rubbing his little finger behind his ear.

"It doesn't work," he says.

"Excuse me, Mr Cryptic?"

"It doesn't work. I still want you."

Greg pulls back and squints up at him for a moment, myopic over the top of his glasses, and then he lets out a breath that sounds both surprised and vaguely pitying. "Jesus," he says, "you really do, don't you?"

They screw on the couch that night instead of in the bed, and Greg doesn't stay for beer and a movie afterwards.


End file.
